


Sweater Shopping

by Softchelles



Category: Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Christmas, Established Relationship, F/M, In the future where they're living together and happy dumb dorks in love, Tooth Rotting Fluff, honestly, i hate them, what losers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-24
Updated: 2018-11-24
Packaged: 2019-08-28 12:11:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16723146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Softchelles/pseuds/Softchelles
Summary: It's really hard to do last minute shopping for an ugly Christmas sweater party when you're engaged to a total loser.ORPeter and Michelle goof around in a thrift store like the dorks that they are.





	Sweater Shopping

**Author's Note:**

> I am such trash for the holidays, but even more so when it comes to picturing these dweebs celebrating the holidays. So basically I'm making my way through a list of holiday prompts and just writing little tiny stories here and there, and sharing them with you now.
> 
> As usual, sorry if they suck. 
> 
> Also as usual, you can find me on twitter @softchelles come talk to me about all the festive hc's because oh BOY do I have a lot of them!
> 
> Alright that's about it! Coolthxbye!

❅❅❅ 

" _No._ Absolutely not, **no.** ”

“What? Why not?” Her question feigned innocence, but the devious twinkle in her eye, paired with a wicked smile, told Peter that she knew _exactly_ why.

“Because it’s pure evil,” he insisted. As if on cue the doll’s head lulled to the side so that it’s cold beady eyes were staring lifelessly back at Peter.

“You’re telling me,” Michelle stepped towards him, lowering her voice so that the rest of the store wouldn’t hear as she continued with her hushed taunting, “—that you’ve fought the Vulture… Thanos… Mysterio…. that Goblin guy….and this. This is what scares you? This tiny little elf?”

“That’s not an elf. That’s some sort of demonic being from the seventh circle of hell.” Peter was not backing down. They were not bringing that creepy thing-- with its shifty eyes eyes, toothy grin, and cheeks so red they were probably soaked in the blood of its victims—anywhere near their home. They may have only moved in together over the course of the past few months, but they had known each other way longer. Long enough for Michelle Jones to know better. "Plus, we don't know where it's been, whose house it belonged to, what it's been through, what it's seen. How it ended up here-- no. If we bring that thing into our house, it's definitley coming to life and killing one of us. And let's be real. It's coming after me first." 

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Are you saying you couldn't handle it?" 

"I'm saying I won't have to. Because we're not buying it." 

“You’re no fun. You know that?” With a roll of her eyes and a reluctant sigh, she set the elf back on its shelf. 

“Then why’d you let me give you this?” He lifted her hand for the world to see. Even under the gross fluorescent lighting of her favorite thrift store, the ring on her left hand sparkled almost as bright as the smile on her face when he'd given it to her. That ring meant a lot. It meant a lot to May when Ben gave it to her. It meant a lot to Michelle now that Peter had continued the tradition. 

But that didn't stop her from snatching her hand back, clutching at her chest as if he had no right to use the engagement ring against her in this fight. “I thought it was pretty.” 

Without missing a beat, he played along, “I thought you were pretty.”

“Thought?” Her brows shot up. A relaxed yet knowing smirked stretched across her face. He’d seen that smirk thousands of times before. That was the smirk that said Michelle somehow knew exactly what he was going to say before he was going to say it, and there was no use even saying it anymore because she had already formulated a perfect comeback and was just looking for the opportunity to open fire. But Peter had gotten pretty good at this whole 'banter' thing over the course of the past five years. He wasn't going down without a fight.

“You still were up until about twenty seconds ago when you tried to bring that thing home with us.” He started to push their cart down the aisle. “But now I’m seeing you in a whole new light.”

“I want to be seeing you in _this._ ”

When he turned to face her she had a sweater in her hands. It was green with red thread lining the sleeves. The buttons looked like peppermints and somehow tied in with the embroidered gifts, ornaments, and snowmen stitched all across the front. 

Peter frowned. “I thought this was supposed to be an ugly Christmas sweater party.” 

“See. That’s the thing. Your fashion sense is so awful I genuinely can't tell if you’re joking or not.” But still she lifted the sweater up against his chest, tilting her head as if the new angle would help her picture it on Peter, and if it was the sweater he should wear to the party that night. 

“Like yours is any better.” 

Her jaw fell to the floor, where his eyes had gone—to the combat boots she had kept after all these years, long after she’d matured past her high school wardrobe.

“I know you’re not dissing these shoes,” she warned. “Because these shoes that will walk right out that door and leave your ass here.”

He shrugged nonchalantly. “I’m okay with that.”

“Oh really?” she dared. She draped the sweater across one of her arms before folding them both across her chest. “You’re okay with me leaving you here all alone with _him?_ ”

She pointed back at the decorative demon that was somehow watching them even after they had walked to the end of the aisle. Seriously. Was that the position they had left him in? Peter was almost positive he had been looking the other way when they left. Another frown appeared on his face. 

“Okay no, wait. Please don’t do that.”

Her nose crinkled when she laughed.  
God. His fiancée had the cutest laugh in the world.  
He still couldn’t wrap his mind around that title, that label, that development in their lives.

Michelle Jones was his fiancée. 

Peter Parker was going to spend the rest of his life trying to figure out how he got so lucky. 

“What?” Her voice pulled him from his thoughts, but the smile she was wearing was so tempting, it almost sent him back under. 

“Nothing,” he smiled back.

The look on her face said she didn’t believe him. Narrow eyes, tight lips—it might have looked like one of her trademarked scowls to an outsider. But Peter Parker was no outsider. He didn’t miss the twitch in her lip, the soft blush in her cheeks.

So it wasn’t just him.  
They were both in an eternal state of awe. 

Michelle tossed the sweater into the cart before returning to the rack to search for a sweater for herself. “You’re still such a loser.” He opened his mouth to argue and she held up her hand to stop him. It was as if she had read his mind and decided to save them both from his stupid response. “And before you try and tell me that you’re a loser I agreed to marry, there’s still time for me to change my mind. So watch it.”

After a few more seconds sifting through sweaters, Michelle pulled a black one from the rack. This one wasn’t nearly as decorative as the one he was supposed to wear, and yet she announced “This will do” before tossing it into the cart next to his.

“Wait, what?” He tried to pull it from the basket, but she swatted his hand away. “Do I even get to see it?”

“Of course you do,” she answered flatly. “At the party tonight.” She started to push their cart again.

“I truly hate you.”

She waved her hand triumphantly in the air while she kept walking down the aisle. “That’s why you gave me _**this!**_ " 

“Wait—that’s my line.”

"And this is your wallet." She waved his wallet in her other hand and his own flew to his pockets to find that they were empty. What--when had she even-- how did he miss that?! "Keep up, Parker." 

❅❅❅


End file.
